Taking Chances
by xynad
Summary: The first time Draco Malfoy hears about the Yule Ball from his father, he already knew who he was going to ask. Dramione.


**TAKING CHANCES**

**A/N: This is my first time to write something for the amazing Harry Potter books. I've been reading Goblet for a week now, when this inspiration suddenly hit me. I hope you enjoy, and don't forget to leave me a note, k? :)**

Draco Malfoy's heart was pounding heavily on his chest. He had never felt this much nervous before, not even when he first became Quidditch Seeker. He was so nervous; to the extent that his hands were sweating like mad and his insides seemed to have turned into lead. Normally, he would've laughed at the very thought- he would've found it funny, impossible even, to think that the ever sleek Draco Malfoy would one day lose his nerves.

But this was not any normal day. Not at all.

Because today, he was going to do the impossible.

He was going to ask Hermione Granger to the Yule Ball.

He has been having trips to the library quite recently, owing to the fact that he knew well where she would be spotted alone. If she wanted company, she would be in the Great Hall surrounded by her _boys-_those two stinking Gryffindor boys, Potter and Weasley. When she wanted to work, however, she was usually alone with her twenty or so books in the library.

He has been hiding in a particularly tall bookshelf for the past hour now, calming his nerves and practicing the dialogue in his head. He should come out cool and nonchalant. He is, after all, the Draco Malfoy. He surreptitiously glanced at her- he's always fancied her, but it was out of habit that he could not imagine himself not taunting her. He was in Slytherin, Merlin's beard. He was a Malfoy. He has a reputation to protect, to uphold.

His decision to ask her wasn't a whim, mind you. Ever since he's heard about the Yule Ball tradition from his father, he had been plotting ways to ask her. It was Dumbledore's announcement a week ago that sealed it. He was going to ask her. Reputation and Pure bloodedness be damned.

Inhaling a bit loudly than he would have and clearing his throat, he finally mustered the courage to go out of his hiding and approach her.

"Granger."

Hermione Granger's trademark bushy hair turned towards him and for a moment, she surveyed him with her eyebrows furrowing. He knew she particularly disliked being disturbed whenever she was working, but he knew today was the day. Her _boys_might invite her to go with them anytime now. It was now or never.

He strutted towards her in the usual Draco Malfoy fashion and his face broke into its usual smirk.

"What is it, Malfoy?", she asked, raising one of her eyebrows.

"I.. I just-"

But just what, Hermione didn't get to hear. At that very moment, a familiar figure strode towards her (also coming from one of the bookshelves) and sat himself beside her, distracting Draco from his very much practiced dialogue.

Draco surveyed the man and knew instantly who he was. Everybody knew who he was: the Durmstrang Champion, Viktor Krum.

"Vil you please go to ze ball wid me?", he muttered very quickly, with his usual scowl.

"Oh."

Hermione was obviously taken aback, but she wasn't the only one. Draco immediately paled, and their party of three was tensely silent for about a minute. Hermione, still very red in the face, looked at Krum and then at Draco.

"You were saying, Malfoy?" she asked, her voice obviously shaken and was without any hint of sarcasm.

"You were stepping on your quill, Mudblood".

And he left. He was a few steps away when he heard her say 'yes'.  
>-<p>

"Hermione-who are you going to the ball with?"

Draco's eyebrows furrowed upon hearing the Weasel's voice. He was approaching the Great Hall to join Crabbe and Goyle for dinner, when the freckled boy's question grabbed his attention. He knew the answer to that, of course. Famous Icky Vicky.

He could've just gone straight to the Slytherin table, but he was still feeling too dejected to let the opportunity pass.

"You're joking, Weasley!" he snapped from behind them. All three of them were now facing him now, and Hermione's expression was deadly. "You're not telling me someone's asked that to the ball? Not the long-molared Mudblood!."

Harry and Ron both made furious moves to get him, but he saw Hermione heave a sigh of relief. She must have been afraid he'll spill it. After all, he was the only one in the whole of Hogwarts who witnessed Krum's invitation.

"Oh, hello Professor Moody!" she beamed, and as if on cue, he frantically turned to look at his shoulder, lest the mad, disfigured excuse of a teacher was indeed, behind him. Moody, however, was still at the staff table finishing his dinner. He sighed inwardly.

Fuming, he turned his back on them, their laughter reverberating in his eardrums. He left the Great Hall and made his way back to the common room, his dinner forgotten.

He was not bitter, of course. There was no reason to be so. Draco Malfoy never was, and never will be bitter. Especially not because of a Mudblood.

"Damn your sodding arse, Krum".


End file.
